The Perils of Coffee
by Isolith
Summary: Mayhem ensues when Sharon Raydor and Andy Flynn go on an innocent coffee run.


_Summary:_ Mayhem ensues when Sharon Raydor and Andy Flynn go on an innocent coffee run.

…

**The Perils of Coffee**

…

"Remind me to never come here for coffee ever again," Andy Flynn groused in a dry voice.

Sharon Raydor wanted to smile at his comment but her eyes were glued to the trickle of blood from his eyebrow, the handcuff on her left wrist chaffing and cold as it chained her to the radiator next to her likewise chained lieutenant on her right. It was difficult to find anything funny in this moment.

Andy blinked futilely as a drop of blood travelled down into the crevice of his left eye. "Shit," he cursed, his face drawn into a scowl as he smeared the blood away from his eye with his free hand.

"Are you alright?" Sharon asked him in a whisper out of the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were trained on the angry man striding from one corner of the little café to the next, every once in a while sneaking a look through the closed blinds and out into the street. She could just detect the blink of blue lights from between the slits of the blinds. The gun in the man's hands drew her attention however, the way the metal circled in the air this and that way, pointing and gesticulating. The man seemed untethered on the whole.

"Oh just dandy, Capt'n," Andy replied sourly like a sullen five-year old. Sharon rolled her eyes at his demeanor; he was still trying to work his way out of the handcuff around his right wrist without any success.

"Stop squirming," she told him, "you'll only end up with scraped skin and bruises."

"Escape artists do this all the time," he gritted out between his teeth, still wriggling this and that way with his chained arm as he tried to flatten his thumb and slide his hand out of the metal.

Sharon sighed at the foolhardy, concentrated look on his face; of course he would be ever the more sarcastic in this situation, "Last time I checked, escape artist wasn't on your resume, Lieutenant. Reckless hothead however was."

"Maybe I've picked up some new tricks since you've departed from F.I.D, huh."

Sharon rolled her eyes again, "I doubt it."

Andy looked at her briefly, his eyes dark and unreadable. His lips pursed for a split second and she was almost certain he would make a retort but instead his mouth turned downwards and he went back to trying to magically escape from his own handcuffs.

At least she wasn't stuck with Provenza Sharon thought with a rueful smile; now that would have been just delightful.

"Hey, asshole," Andy's voice rose suddenly, shaking her out of her reverie. Apparently her lieutenant had exhausted his patience on trying to free himself and was now seeking something else to put his attention on.

"Andy – shut - up," she hissed at him between clenched teeth hoping to keep him from deteriorating their situation further only the gunman was already on his way over to them, now even more unbalanced.

"I told you to keep still and shut the fuck up," the man yelled, his face obscured by a grim sneer.

Even the warmth of Andy's shoulder next to hers was not much of a comfort in this moment; again she found herself missing her gun. Their hostage taker had put her gun and Andy's on display in his pants, shoved under the band of his jeans to taunt them. With any luck the idiot would end up shooting himself. The rest of the people in the café were lying on the floor, facedown and unmoving. The quiet was only interrupted by an intermittent sniffle muffled by the floor; that and the phone on the wall near the counter that had been ringing almost non-stop for the last ten minutes.

"Hey genius," Andy sneered, his eyes intent on the man, "You've gotta answer the damn phone if you want something. You see, that's the whole deal; you answer the phone and say what you want in exchange for your hostages."

The man scoffed, "Maybe I don't want a damn thing, hah, did you think of that. Fucking smartass."

Great, Sharon thought darkly, not only was Andy worked up but he was apparently determined on working everyone else up as well.

"Maybe the next time the phone rings," she tried to intervene, her voice smooth and low, "You could pick it up; you don't have to talk, just listen."

"Bitch, shut up," the man spat at her, his angry little eyes on her with contempt.

Andy became even more incensed as he strained against the restraint of his handcuff, leaning as close to the man as he could. "Hey – you watch your tongue." His voice was low now only it did not sound reassuring.

Sharon flinched when the end of the gun connected with Andy's head yet again. The angry man went away, screaming something at the rest of the hostages.

…

"What in the world are they doing?" Provenza complained to the murder room as he waddled to his desk, the sight of no take-away coffee from a place with freshly grounded beans not doing anything to help with his hastily declining holiday spirit, "– getting coffee from Brazil!"

No one answered him.

Not only was he craving coffee in the worst possible way but he was also stuck in the murder room with a bunch of goonies whose brains had already turned to mush this close to the holidays. Mike Tao had been browsing through websites for Christmas presents for two days straight, Sykes had taken to overtly reading fiction instead of hiding it behind a folder and Buzz was playing Christmas songs nonstop. No one had yet to tell him to turn the volume down and Provenza had up until now tolerated it; devoid of caffeine however seemed to make him less accepting of anything.

It had been a slow day yesterday and today looked to be the same prospect of dull paperwork. That and it had been almost three quarters of an hour now since he had seen the two idiots saunter off to the elevator to get coffee.

"I mean how long does it take to get damn coffee," Provenza continued to grumble as he neared his own desk and sat down on his chair with discontent. "I don't seem to recall anyone ordering fresh coffee out of a South American plantation."

Mike gave a noncommittal shrug, his eyes glued to his computer and whatever technie thing he was immersed in.

"Maybe they stopped for food," Sanchez supplied, his voice muffled from behind a file, "I wouldn't mind food with my coffee."

Provenza grumbled to himself as he shook his head.

Unbelievable.

"It's half past nine, Julio," Provenza complained, "I saw you munching down your breakfast not even a half hour ago."

Sanchez shrugged.

There was an extended period of silence in the murder room.

"This is ridiculous," Provenza exclaimed, "This is exactly what happened the last time those two oh-so-innocently offered to go pick up coffee for everyone."

Mike and Sanchez both looked up.

"What do you mean?" Mike questioned as he gave Provenza that blank Tao-look that could mean anything.

"They took forever to pick up six beverages of coffee last Tuesday, remember? Which was complete nonsense seeing they only went across the street to that little place near the bank," Provenza sighed and then musing out aloud he said, "They have been going on a lot of coffee runs lately – together."

"Traffic was bad last time, sir," Sanchez said with a wolfish grin, "There sure is a lot of traffic when you have to only cross one street – with a pedestrian walk."

Provenza sighed and shook his head at Sanchez.

"I offered to go today," Sykes interrupted as she joined in, her voice sounding merry of all things, "but the Captain told me to go read up on the Jaretts case instead. And then Lieutenant Flynn jumped right in and said he would join her, you know keep her company. He's never offered to keep me company on coffee runs." She then shrugged, eyes once again on the novel in her hands.

Provenza grumbled again, "If my coffee is late and lukewarm because Flynn is sneaking around with the Captain behind our backs," he paused briefly, shaking his head, "I am going to have a fit."

Sanchez laughed, Mike smiled serenely as if it did not bother him and Sykes stared off into space before she said, "You could heat the coffee up again, you know."

Reheated coffee; why that was nearly as offensive as Flynn doing whatever he was doing with the Captain.

Provenza made a hand motion towards the girl, "Back to work," he mouthed, "we don't pay you to sit around and do nothing, huh."

"Unlike you, sir," she shot back, a wide cheeky smile.

…

"Andy, are you alright?" Sharon poked him with her knee into his thigh. When he did not respond she placed her free hand on his knee instead, leveling her head with his and trying to get eye contact with him. "Lieutenant?"

"Yeah, yeah," Andy mumbled and looked up, an expression that looked painful. The skin around his left eyebrow was even more swollen now. Sharon sighed at the sight of the gash; it had just begun to coalesce and now fresh blood was visible again.

"I'm just a bit dizzy," he gave her a cheeky grin as if it was somehow a joke, "on no account of that little shithead."

She sighed again, "How about your eye sight? Headache? Are you nauseous?"

Andy gave her a strange glower, "What are you?" He smiled scornfully, "My doctor?"

"I'm trying to gather whether our hostage taker actually managed to make a dent in your thick-headed skull," she retorted, her voice dry and irritated.

"Nah, I've had worse."

She gave him a long look, "Somehow that does not surprise me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Hell no, spit it out. I'm not that thick-headed that I do not know an insult when it's thrown in my face."

She shook her head, "Just let it go."

He fixed her with a distasteful sneer and then looked away. They were both silent for a short while, the little space between them feeling too tense.

"Shit," Andy cursed in a low voice, his face screwed up in aggravation.

"Indeed," Sharon agreed, thinking that just maybe Provenza would have been a better companion. Provenza would not feel inclined towards riling up a gunman now would he? Or annoying her into an early grave?

"What now?" she asked somewhat tersely, feeling she was entitled to some annoyance now that it was established her lieutenant was not suffering from a concussion; well he could be but he was conscious for the moment and that was enough. Being confined to a radiator in a café and forced to sit on the floor and unable to deter the situation was ruining her intention to remain calm. There really was no control to grasp in this.

"I should have known something was wrong," Andy grumbled.

"What do you mean?" she asked him, turning her head and regarding him instead of their hostage taker; there had been a little note of pique in his tone that irked her.

"I mean, I was too busy trying to apologize to you to even contemplate why the weird guy looked suspicious," he replied, his eyes narrowed on her.

She made a small annoyed noise; "So it's my fault, is that what you are trying to insinuate?"

"I'm not insinuating anything," he shrugged, "but you are the one who insisted on trying out this new café. Heck, I'm not the one obsessed with obscure cafes on the other side of town, now am I?"

She glared at him.

"You could just have stayed put," she countered, her tone hard-edged now, "No one forced you to come with me."

Andy stared back, another unreadable look in his eyes.

Sharon narrowed her eyes and glared harder at him.

Then he suddenly smiled, the curl to his mouth seeming condescending, "I wasn't sure you would be able to remember everyone's orders."

…

"Goddamn," Provenza cursed when he looked at his wrist watch. It was well past two hours now.

"Save yourself the trouble and go upstairs to robbery/homicide. They've got that new espresso machine," Sanchez told him with a sly grin.

"And get told off by some hotshot young thing barely out of diapers! I think not, Julio!"

Sanchez shrugged.

"Maybe they got caught in a traffic accident or something," Sykes spoke, now seated in Flynn's chair reading her ridiculous trashy crime novel, her feet up on the desk. Provenza hoped she did not disgrace his desk like this when he wasn't present; thankfully he did not care much for Flynn's desk. She could get food crumbs on Flynn's desk for all he cared.

"Don't' you think the Captain would have called then?" Provenza countered, his eyes towards the ceiling.

"Maybe they're holed up in a hotel somewhere," Sanchez supplied with a grin.

"God Julio! Don't put images in my head," Provenza complained.

Mike snorted, a little giggle following. Provenza glared at him but all he got in return was a shrug and another serene smile; for all he knew Mike Tao was a secret romantic at heart.

Provenza glared at them all; they were obviously all secret romantics at heart.

"The Captain will have your ass if she hears you talking like that," Buzz told Sanchez, having heard the last of their conversation coming into the murder room. Finally, Provenza thought, someone with a sense of propriety.

"She can have Flynn's," Sanchez snickered, amused by his own comment.

Provenza rolled his eyes in consort with Buzz.

This was ridiculous. Provenza made a gesture at Mike, indicating the overall area of computers, "Mike – do that thing you do and locate Flynn's cellphone, huh. Let's get this sorted."

Mike spun on his chair, back to his computer tapping away on the keyboard. "Do you want me to locate the Captain's phone as well?" he asked as if that was a natural deduction.

"Ye god no!" Provenza exclaimed, trying to imagine the expression on Sharon's face if she discovered they had located her whereabouts without the proper procedures. "She would have a tantrum."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement; surely that would mean a reappearance of a decidedly long-forgotten F.I.D Captain; Provenza was certain in this. No, it was better to simply locate Flynn and take it from there.

"And lieutenant Flynn won't have a tantrum?" Sykes asked.

"I can handle Flynn," Provenza replied.

"Flynn's at the Imperial," Mike said with a blank face.

Provenza gaped.

Mike grinned, "Just kidding."

The group laughed.

Provenza scowled at them.

…

Silence had settled among them heavy like stone; passive-aggressive silence that meant ignoring each other for what felt like two dreadful long-drawn hours. In reality it was only ten minutes. Andy thought it better to not say anything at all, even if the need to rile Sharon further up lingered under his skin like an itch. That she was just within reach did not help the matter in any way, her shoulder just shy of touching his.

It was Sharon that broke the silence however, a little hum of discontent before she spoke, "I don't see a way out of this."

Andy contemplated her in profile, the pursed lips that were surely meant for him and her narrowed eyes on the idiot gunman.

"We'll just have to let SWAT do their thing," Andy answered wryly.

Sharon turned her head, regarding him with an arched eyebrow, "Sooo," she began, her voice full to the brim with sarcasm, "you are content to sit here and wait your fate out?"

"Not particularly," he gave her a condescending smile, "but unless you feel like talking some sense into the idiot over there, I don't see any other way out of it."

"He's not in a state of mind where logic will appeal to him," she stated, "though you are welcome to try."

Andy fixed a scowl on her, his upper lip curling, "Yeah, I think I will pass."

She sighed and her lips pursed further, almost a full-blown pout by now.

Silence stretched out between them again but this time it had tensed even further into a ball, and after a second he blurted, "So, did you have a good evening?"

Sharon gave him an incredulous look, "You want to talk about _that_ now?"

Andy shrugged, "No time like the present, huh."

"Marvelous," she answered sarcastically then, her eyes narrowed, "My evening was just marvelous."

"Marvelous?" he repeated, voice full of disbelief.

"I was buried in paperwork," she paused and took a forced inhalation, "No thanks to you."

Andy shook his head, "Oh, so that's my fault too."

She gave a noncommittal shrug, her eyes not on him anymore.

"You haven't had any coffee yet? Right?" he poked her leg with his, a bit too forcefully.

"What?"

"You are acting as if you have something stuck up your –"

"So help me god, if you finish that sentence," she interrupted him in a warning, eyes blazing and her mouth now a straight line.

"I haven't had coffee yet," he explained in a sour voice, his voice lower than normal; he had no wish to get smacked in the face by a gun again.

They stared at each other, unblinking until he saw the corners of her mouth twitching; they broke into a smile simultaneously and Andy couldn't help but give a low chuckle.

…

"Of course they go to the only place in this damn city with a lunatic on the loose – of course they get in a goddamn hostage situation."

It should be against the law to work without a considerate amount of coffee in your body, Provenza thought grumpily as he looked at the little coffee shop with the blinds closed, standing behind a police car; well, he rectified, someone should put a cup of coffee in his hand seeing he was forced to stand idle like an idiot watching SWAT coordinate everything. It was not Major Crimes's jurisdiction; not unless something went horribly wrong and the inside of the café ended up a bloodbath.

"See, this is what happens when the budget gives espresso machines to everyone but Major Crimes," Provenza accused Taylor who looked forlornly at the shop.

Taylor refrained from replying back.

Slimeball, Provenza thought as he crossed his arms.

His eyes reverted back to the shop and he was sure this was all Flynn's fault. His partner had a proclivity for getting into these ridiculous situations.

…

"Soo - how bad is it?" Andy asked, giving a goofy smile.

"Your face?" Sharon went along with his attempt at levity.

He nodded, boyish pout.

"No worse than usual," she half joked, her mouth curving of its own.

Andy chuckled at her reply but the action only turned to a groan and then a grimace; she imagined his bruised face hurt when his muscles strained.

She nudged her leg gently against his; "You sure you're okay?"

"Headache," he mumbled and then shrugged.

She nudged his thigh again, "Just don't fall asleep on me, huh."

He looked up, a mischievous glint in his eyes suddenly. Oh god, that man could turn anything into innuendo.

"I won't Capt'n," he winked at her.

She rolled her eyes.

His smile widened.

…

"Are you telling me they've gotten themselves handcuffed to a radiator?" This was not supposed to make him feel gleeful. It was not supposed to make him sputter with a chuckle. It was hilarious, in a morbid sort of way. Once they were safely out of the situation Provenza would able to annoy Flynn with this for the next century to come. He smiled to himself, taking this even further when he imagined how to turn this into something he could aggravate the Captain with.

Taylor did not seem to share his opinion judging by the pinched look on his face.

Sanchez nodded in affirmation having just talked to the coordinator for the SWAT team.

"Oh yeah; Lieutenant Blake said they sure looked cozy," Sanchez gave a half-smile, half-shrug, "They seemed to be caught up in some kind of heated conversation, Blake said. Maybe something to do with the bruise on Lieutenant Flynn's face."

Provenza shook his head in disbelief, "Unbelievable."

"What does the guy want?" Sykes asked.

"No idea," Sanchez answered, "He's not cooperating in any way."

Provenza felt his phone vibrate in his pocket for the umpteenth time; Rusty texting him yet again to acquire about the situation, just like the last umpteenth vibrations. Provenza quickly sent an update to the boy and hoped it would calm the kid down. The last thing he needed was Rusty coming here; the Captain would have his hide.

"There's nothing we can do," Sanchez said, "SWAT is going in."

Damn, Provenza thought. He abhorred standing on the sidelines.

"Well," he groused at Taylor, "Are we just going to stand here while SWAT bulldoze the place?"

…

"Do you think you might be able to forgive me?" Andy asked her some later, his voice sounding peculiar.

Sharon sighed and then gave him an eye roll, "Of course."

Andy then smiled, "Betcha Provenza's outside complaining about us ruining his day."

Sharon smiled in return, "I will order him to place his blame on you."

Andy grinned, "He always does."

…

_One_

_Two_

_Three_

Then it was all hell and fire rain, a racket of noise and the smell of smoke bombs.

Provenza took cover behind a patrol car, Sykes crouching by his right side as she tried to get a view of what was happening around the backend of the car, her hand on the gun at her hip.

Provenza inhaled slowly, glaring at the back of Taylor's head. The Slimeball had sought cover behind another patrol car, likewise crouched and trying to peek around the car. SWAT was like the gang unit in Provenza's book, always relying on brute force before they contemplated tactic.

As long as no one was hurt Provenza would keep his mouth shut – well, maybe he would have a few choice words to a few select people – but if something went wrong there would be hell to pay.

"They're in," Sanchez said, headgear on so he could follow SWAT's channel; he had rushed from the cover of the SWAT sedan and was now panting next to Sykes.

"And?" Provenza huffed impatiently.

…

_Crack_

_Bang_

_Crash_

It was very different to experience the SWAT team from the other side of the show, smoke bombs heavy in the air suddenly, light blinding and Andy was positive he had lost his hearing somewhere in the mess of it all. His eyes watered and particles itched his throat till he started coughing.

Sharon coughed next to him, her hand grasping his arm out of the blue; her fingers dug into his shirt and the flesh beneath. He did not mind, the pain a welcome distraction.

Without much thought he tried to block as much of Sharon as he could with his own body, able to somehow lower them to the floor. The handcuff scraped and dug into his wrist but it was a small price to pay for remaining bullet-free he thought. A trigger-happy idiot hostage taker was bound to work SWAT up into a trigger-happy mood as well.

Andy was acutely aware of her breath and the warmth of her body beneath him, the noise of guns firing sounding strange coming from behind a cover of smoke.

Shit, this better be over soon he thought. Otherwise Sharon's nails would soon pierce through his skin drawing blood.

…

Provenza watched with bated breath ambulances arriving, sirens shrill and ominous. Sykes pointed at the front of the store, three SWAT-guys bringing out the slumped form of a guy, hurriedly towards the back of one ambulance.

"That's the gunman," Sanchez said, listening to his head-gear still, "No one else seems to be hurt inside the shop."

As much as it was relief Provenza wanted to see it with his own two eyes before he believed SWAT's initial report.

"Oh yeah," Sykes smiled, "Here they come."

Provenza moved closer to the girl and her vantage point, Sanchez at her shoulder.

Out of the front door came a little throng of people, guided by two SWAT guys.

There was no sight of the Captain or Flynn yet.

"They are bringing in the bolt cutters now," Sanchez pronounced, a sudden smile on his face.

"What?" Provenza was confused until he remembered the idiots had been handcuffed. He smiled as well, watching a SWAT guy sprint into the shop, bolt cutters under his arms.

A couple of minutes went by and then finally the Captain and Flynn emerged from the shop, hands raised in front of them as they shaded their eyes against the sun.

They looked ridiculous, Provenza decided with a smile.

…

"Sit still," Sharon ordered brusquely when Andy fidgeted for the umpteenth time.

Her lieutenant was sitting on the pavement, two steps from an ambulance. The paramedics were attending to another hostage who had a possibly broken arm. Sharon had quickly found what she needed to clean out the gash on her lieutenant's eyebrow, the back of the ambulance remarkably ordered.

Andy's eyes squeezed shut and lines appeared on his brow every time she neared the gash on his eyebrow with the wet towel in her hand. He even made a little strange noise not unlike a grunt as if he was in great pain.

She smiled, "You're such a baby."

He looked up, taking the comment personal in the way only he could take things personal, "It stings," he bit out, a glower prominent in his expression.

Sharon's smile only widened and she gave his cheek a tender pat, "An infection will hurt even more."

He rolled his eyes in retort, eyes scrunched up when she neared with the wet towel again.

"Ouch," he complained when she dapped the caked blood away, the wound clean in no time.

"There you go," she whispered, her voice low as she leaned closer and then made a little show out of blowing air on his eyebrow.

She watched him open his eyes and his lips turned instantly upwards, "You should kiss it better."

She shook her head, "I think a butterfly band-aid will be more useful than my lips."

Andy huffed, "spoilsport."

…

"I'm sick," Provenza pronounced as he watched the two idiots blatantly flirt, close by the last remaining ambulance. Flynn trying to appear nonchalant on the curb of the pavement while the Captain tried to clean out the idiot's face. Provenza sighed.

"I think it's cute," Sykes said suddenly out of thin air, standing next to him with her arms crossed and a goofy smile on her lips. Her eyes were likewise on the couple.

Provenza rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

"Just admit it, sir, you think they are cute too," Sykes even had the audacity to smile at him as she poked him in the ribcage.

Provenza sighed; he really needed coffee now.

Provenza was about to give Sykes a full lecture on the idiocy of those two flirting when he saw Chief Taylor approaching out of the corner of his eye. He sighed again.

"C'mon," he said to Sykes, "Operation Cloak and Dagger is a go."

When the girl gave him a questioning look, Provenza explained, "Let's go make sure our Chief does not see the two idiots being all lovey-dovey. He will have a conniption."

Sykes nodded with a smile and followed him towards Taylor.

…

The end =)


End file.
